Memories Arisen
by CelticLady
Summary: When Christine leaves him, Erik is devastated, but a letter from an old friend distracts him from his own troubles.
1. prologue

Memories Arisen

I don't own any of the versions of the Phantom.

Oh, and this is mostlySusan Kay Erik, slight Leroux. Leroux-ish ending with Christine having left and Erik suicidal.

* * *

Late winter, 1861 ------------- 

Life was hard on the road, but it was better than death, barely. Had he not left, that would have been his fate. Rain came down in sheets, drenching him deeper than skin, or so it felt.

That's how it felt, anyway.

"Hello there stranger." Another man greeted him. Surprised, Erik looked up.

"Oh…hello." He responded hesitantly.

"Abominable weather. Have you any place to seek shelter young man?"

Erik observed the other man. He was tall, with laughing green eyes and black hair. Irish, if the accent was anything to go by. "…No, not presently."

"This weather isn't fit for man or beast. Why don't you stay with my family tonight? It's just my wife Ailie and I, and our little niece Eithlinn."

"I don't want to impose." He murmured nervously.

"No imposition! We love guests. My name's Ewain of clan Bascna, by the way." He offered his hand.

After a moment's hesitation, Erik took it. "I am Erik."

"Ah, a Scandinavian lad, correct?"

"Er… yes. And you must be Irish."

The man chuckled, "Guilty as charged, I'm afraid." He replied, "Come now, lad, you're liable to catch your death out here!"

Soon they reached a rather nice, if simple house. Erik was wary, but Ewain ushered him inside.

It was warm, and the smell of dinner cooking was tantalizing, as he hadn't eaten in several days. A little girl sat by the fire absentmindedly drawing. She was a pretty little thing, with flame red hair and dark green eyes. She jumped up when they entered and embraced Ewain. A woman with russet brown hair hugged him as well, greeting him happily in Gaelic.

For a moment, Erik found himself wishing for the life this man had, with a loving family. The girl backed up a bit as her uncle and his wife greeted one another.

She stared curiously up at him. "Hi!" She said cheerfully, "I'm Eithlinn. What's your name?" She held out her hand.

"Erik." He took it and she shook his hand rather firmly for such a small child.

"Looks like we're going to have bad weather for awhile." She observed.

"Unfortunately, it seems so." He agreed.

"Where are you from?"

"Far away."

"I came from Ireland. Have you ever been there?" Eithlinn inquired.

"No, I can't say I have." He replied. "But I've been to Russia, and Belgium, and Persia."

Her eyes widened. "Wow! Was it neat?"

"Sometimes."

Then Ewain introduced Erik to his wife and the woman exclaimed over his wet clothes. "Oh! You should change into something dry, dear! Do you have anything else?"

"No." He was a little embarrassed.

"Then you can use some of our son's old clothes. He's moved out with his wife, he doesn't need them anymore."

"Thank you, Ma'am."

"Eithi, dear, will you show him Lugh's old room?"

"Yes, Auntie." The little girl held out her hand again. "Come on."

Obediently, he took her hand and followed her.

"How old are you, Erik?" She asked.

"Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine next month."

"You're old." She replied with innocent candor.

He raised an eyebrow behind his mask.

"And how old are you, Miss Eithlinn?"

"Seven."

"Everything seems old at that age." He remarked.

"Yep. And you're not as old as Uncle Ewain." She looked around, lowering her voice, "He's forty-six!"

Erik chuckled.

"How come you wear a mask?"

He winced. He knew that was coming. "I… I'm very ugly. I just got tired of people staring."

"Oh. I'm sorry." She replied. She frowned, "They shouldn't do that, I like you. You're nice."

"Thank you, little one."

Her little nose scrunched up, "Please don't call me that, you sound like granpa. And I _know_ you're not that old!"

She was a sweet little child, but he supposed that was due partly to her upbringing. "So where are your parents?"

Suddenly a very sad look came over her face. "I… My parents used to own a stable in Ireland… Bandits came when I was four… They stole the horses and burned things… Mama told me to hide in the root cellar and keep real quiet. When the noises stopped, I fell asleep. When I finally came out there were bodies everywhere…" Her eyes held a haunted look. "Mama and Daddy were dead. I was alone there for three days until one of the workers came back from a fair with the profits from selling some horses daddy had sent him to sell… Then he took me to Auntie Ailie and Uncle Ewain. I've been here ever since. They left Ireland when cousin Lugh fell in love with a French girl who had taken a trip to Ireland once. They're married now." She looked at the floor. "Oh," She said, pointing at the door they stopped in front of, "That's the room you'll be staying in. Look in the drawers, you should find some dry clothes."

"Thank you."

"Thanks for listening. Nobody ever wants to talk about what happened, but Mama and Daddy saved my life. I don't want to forget their sarc.. sacra.." She fumbled for the word.

"Sacrifice?"

"Thank you… I just don't think they should be forgotten just 'cause they died."

"No, you're right."

She smiled and left him.

"So where are you headed, lad?" Ewain asked later that night.

"Paris. I want to help work on the Opera House." Erik replied.

"Sounds like good work. Have you an interest in architecture?"

"Very much."

"Do you have to leave, Erik?" Eithlinn asked, looking sadly up at him.

"I'm afraid so, Eithi."

"Promise you'll write." She begged.

"Alright."

"I'll miss you." She said, "You're the only grownup who takes me seriously."

"You're a smart little girl."

Eithlinn threw her arms around him and kissed his cheek. "I love you, Erik."

He couldn't respond.

"I hope someday I marry a man just like you." She continued.

"No, you don't."

And he left.

January 1872 -----------------------------

_Dear Erik,_

I heard about the troubles caused by the war. Was the incomplete Opera House really used for an observation post, communications center, powder store and military prison? I hope you were not harmed during all of this, I was quite worried, as I haven't heard from you in awhile. Is it nice to be back to work? How have you been?

_Good news: I'm getting married! His name is Jack Eiru, and he's a very good man, The wedding is planned for May the fifth. Would you please come? You haven't visited since I was fifteen. I miss you, my friend._

_Missing you,_

_Eithlinn Mae Bascna_

Enclosed was a miniature portrait of a young woman about eighteen years old.

_**Dear Eithlinn, **_

_**Congratulations on your engagement, but, regrettably, I must decline. I'm afraid that work has been quite hectic. I have enclosed a gift, and, of course, my best wishes go with you always. I hope that this 'Jack' fellow is truly worthy of you. If he mistreats you in any way, contact me and I will see that he is dealt with.**_

_**Your information was reliable; the Opera House was, in fact, used for all of those things. It is nice to be back to the job I love, although I do regret that it keeps me from your most special of days, again, I apologize, and I really am very happy for you. I am as well as can be expected, you know how I loathe winter. Send Ewain and Ailie my best regards.**_

_**All my love,**_

Erik 

December 1876 -------------------------

_Dear Erik,_

_Happy holidays, dear. I hope this letter finds you well? The twins are growing so fast, and I am due to have another in April. I'm going to name this one after you. Erik if it's a boy, Erika if it's a girl. Jack sends a greeting, and Auntie and Uncle are doing very well. I miss you. What's new? You seemed so sad in your last letter. Are you sure you won't consider spending the holidays with us? I don't like the thought of you being alone. Take care of yourself, and get out now and then, it'll do you good._

_Best wishes,_

_Eithlinn Mae Eiru_

Dear Eithlinn 

_**Happy Holidays to you as well. I've been a little under the weather lately, otherwise, I'm ok, but I'm not at all up to traveling right now. Tell Marcus and Eliara that Uncle Erik loves them and give them these gifts for me. I was just having a bad day earlier, nothing serious. I miss you too; Eithi, and I appreciate the sentiment and hope you'll send me a picture of the little angel. I get out enough; you worry too much, dear. There isn't much new around here. There isn't usually much to talk about. I'm glad to hear that your family is still growing.**_

_**With love, as always,**_

Erik 

1880 -----------------------

_Dear Erik, _

How have you been? Things are pretty average here, though I do miss Aunt Ailie and Uncle Ewain. Ah well, they died together, painlessly. It was just their time. Erika seems to have your musical talent. She misses you almost as much as I do. I'm worried, Erik… So many people have been getting sick in the village. Consumption, I'm afraid. I'm terrified I'll lose Jack or one of my babies! Don't worry about that dreadful diva, Carlotta, she won't last long. When people realize how bad she is, she'll get cast less and less, lower and lower. Tell me more about this Christine girl! Are you sure she's good enough for you?

_Take care,_

_Eithlinn Eiru_

_**Dear Eithlinn,**_

_**I've been well. I'm sorry to hear about Ewain and Ailie. Their loss will truly be felt. Erika has displayed musical talent? Magnificent! I know what to get her for her birthday, then. Don't worry overmuch about the sickness, dear. By all means take the necessary precautions, but if you panic, things will seem far worse than they actually are. I surely hope that you are right about Carlotta.**_

_**Christine is… Ah, how to describe such a vision of perfection! I've never loved anyone so! **_

_**And Eithi…**_

_**I miss you too.**_

_**With love, **_

Erik 

Location- Paris Opera House, 1881 ------------------

Erik wanted to die.

He really did.

After all, what was there to live for? He was all alone now.

As if in reprimand for that thought, he stumbled and fell across a small table. His hand fell across a closed letter.

He felt a pang of regret as he painfully stood and looked at it. It was from Eithlinn, his dear friend for about twenty years. With all that had been going on, he'd forgotten to even open it. Perhaps he ought to read this letter, and write to her a farewell.

Yes, he owed her at least a goodbye.

Carefully, he opened the letter and read:

_Dear Erik_

The paper was smudged as if with tears.

_Oh, Erik! Everything has fallen apart! My husband and my little ones are dead! The only ones to survive the accursed disease are my sweet little Erika and I. Everywhere I look there are reminders of what I have lost. Every day seems like a nightmare. Erika and I were the 'lucky' few immune to the disease. It feels more like a curse than a blessing to live yet. God, Erik, I had to bury my love… I had to bury my babies. I couldn't even ease their suffering!_

_I hate to ask, but could Erika and I please stay with you, at least for awhile? I don't want to be alone right now. Everything hurts and Erika won't stop crying for her Papa and brothers and sisters. I need your presence, please, you always knew what to say to make things stop hurting._

_Eithlinn_

Erik was shocked.

They were all gone?

Poor, poetic Jack, who loved Eithlinn and his children passionately…

The eight year old twins, Eliara and Marcus? The little boy and girl who loved his stories…

Three year old Ewain.

Baby Tomas, just a month short of a year old.

Oh god…

And little Erika and her mother all alone.

He'd formed a special bond with his namesake, and she would follow him everywhere when he'd visit.

Oh, Eithlinn! Poor girl! First her parents, then her Aunt and Uncle, who'd been like parents, now her family!

He was all they had left, he realized, and they were all he ever really had.

How could he think he had nothing?

They'd always been there for him, from that first act of kindness twenty years ago.

Immediately, he took out a pen and paper.

_**Dear Eithlinn,**_

_**Stay right where you are, I'm coming to get you. In the meantime, pack everything, and sell what you can't pack. I never want to have to send you back to that place of horrible memories.**_

_**I wish I could say everything's going to be ok, but that would be lying. However, I'll do everything I can to ease your sorrow.**_

_**I'm coming, dear. Don't worry.**_

_**All my love,**_

Here he paused a moment, realizing he hadn't closed with that in too long, having given all his love to Christine for so long. He sighed and finished,

**_Erik_**


	2. Chapter oneBroken? Or merely bent?

Memories Arisen 2

See the first chapter for the disclaimer.

It had been a month since Erik had gone to them, to Eithlinn and Erika.

88888888888888888 Flashback 88888888888888888888888888888888888888888

They were broken.

The first thing he'd noticed when he saw them was their eyes, and that horrible emptiness that should never have been there.

Eithlinn had always been so cheerful and pretty, her dark green eyes shining like emeralds in candlelight.

Erika had been a shy little girl, but so sweet, and so trusting, with a look in her eyes like a happy cat.

Erika had her mother's eyes, and her grandfather's dark hair. But now a thick streak of silver went through her ebony hair.

A five-year-old should never look so hopeless.

The sight of them drove all thoughts about Christine from his mind.

When they finally came out of their own silent personal hells and noticed him, Eithlinn ran to him and clung to him like a lifeline and Erika wrapped her little arms around his legs, as high as she could reach.

Erik hugged them back, picking up the tiny child.

He didn't know what to say.

Honestly.

What do you say to two people who've watched their loved ones die slowly and painfully with no way to help them?

8888888888888888888888888 End Flashback 8888888888888888888888

"Am I a bad mother, Erik?" Eithlinn's voice brought him out of his reverie.

"Of course not." He answered automatically. He shaded his eyes against the sunlight.

He still wasn't quite used to living on the surface, but he'd had to get a better house before he went to get Eithlinn and her daughter; they couldn't survive such an isolated life as he was used to. It wasn't a bad house; rather like the one Eithi had lived in with her aunt and uncle. Those were safer memories for her to deal with.

Eithlinn immediately adjusted the blinds on the window for him. "She hasn't spoken in over a month…"

"Which is understandable. She was the first one to see your husband dead." He touched her hand hesitantly. Eithlinn and her family had always been loving, tactile people, but it was he was still unaccustomed to anyone actually _wanting_ to touch him, to show him affection. He still remembered the first time he'd visited Eithi and Jack, when the twins had been born. When Jack had met him, he'd embraced him heartily and thanked him for being such a good friend to his wife for so long. Needless to say, he'd been a little shocked.

Yes, Jack had definitely been good enough for Eithi. "I'm sure she'll recover, in time, Eithi. She just needs that. Time, I mean."

She closed the distance between them so that they were side by side and laid her head on his shoulder. "I just feel like I should have been able to save them, to spare her this. I really feel like an awful mother."

"_My_ mother was an awful mother." He replied. "I told you how she treated me. She sold me to the goddamned freak show for goodness sake." He said bitterly.

"I'm sorry, Erik." She whispered. "I just…can't stop blaming myself." She stopped.

"Try to. It's not solving anything, and I hate hearing you talk like that. And…" He sighed, trailing off.

Her eyes widened. "That's not all that's bothering you." She surmised, "What's wrong, dear?"

Erik shook his head, "Forget about it. You've got enough to deal with."

"No, you've been so good to us, and you're still my best friend and I think it might help you to talk about it. Tell me what happened."

Erik saw a glimmer of that familiar stubborn spark in her eye. As much as it might hurt to relive that night, she might be right, and it would be worth it to distract her from her mourning.

"Christine left." He murmured.

"Oh, Erik!" She hugged him.

"That's not all." He went on to tell her the whole story: Raoul, the murders, the Operas, Don Juan Triumphant, and that last awful night… and how Christine had ripped off his mask. And how he had been about to commit suicide when he'd finally gotten to her letter. He smiled wryly. "Not the first time one of your letters has coaxed me off the edge."

She just held him tightly, knowing that behind the mask, his face was wet with tears.

Erik relaxed in her arms, accepting the comfort she offered. She kissed his cheek, and even though it was only on the mask, as always, it meant a lot.

Eithlinn was familiar, safe, accepting. Hard to believe that the first time he had met her she had been a little girl. Her letters, even then, hadn't given the impression of someone twenty-two years younger than he was. She'd seemed closer to seventeen in writing than seven. Eithlinn was the one person in the world who had never judged him, never ridiculed or betrayed him. Eithlinn was safety. She knew everything, including what was behind the mask, and it only ever served to strengthen their friendship.

"I guess we've both got some issues to work through."

"To say the least."

She shrugged, "Well, nobody ever said life would be easy, and love is notoriously hard to deal with, right? Presumably, we can't go down any further from here."

"You are acquainted with the steaming train wreck that is my life?" He asked cynically.

"I have to believe in better things, Erik. Or else what's the point of going on? Everybody believes in something. Be it a higher power, fate, love, or even… even simply a friend they could always count on."

"What are you saying?"

"I've always believed in you, Erik. Since I was little, you were always there, at least in your letters. Even now you came through for little Erika and I."

"Rather a lot of faith to place in one person. Particularly a murderer."

"Your life hasn't been easy. Forget Christine. If she could give up someone like you then it's her loss, not yours. You could do so much better. Clichéd as it sounds, there are other women out there. Plenty of fish in the sea and all."

"And what about you?" He asked sharply, "Do you plan to find a new husband?"

"Someday." She said softly, looking down, "When I stop thinking Jack's going to come back from work, like always, and when I stop hearing them dying in my nightmares… Does it ever end?"

He sighed. It was unfair to start an argument now. Neither of them was really in any condition to come up with anything good. Besides, she wasn't the one he was mad at right now. The problem is, he wasn't sure who that person was. "No." He admitted, "It never fully ends. It'll always be there, you just learn to live with it."


	3. Through the Shell

Memories Arisen 2,

Through the shell

Thank you to everyone who reviewed.

Les Mis Loony—Etymology has never been my strong suit. And I guess there are musical-ish elements in this, but that's partially for drama, and partially because it's always in my CD player (when the soundtrack for Wicked, or The Soft Parade by the Doors isn't, that is.)

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It was late night when he heard it—something that surprised him greatly; the soft playing of a hammered dulcimer coming from Erika's room. Silently, he peered through the partially open door.

Eithlinn was sitting on the side of her daughter's bed, fingers working swiftly with the slim hammers on the strings. Her voice as she sang a soft lullaby to Erika was soft and low and sweet, bringing to mind the sound of a Celtic flute echoing through cool, misty air. Normally, he preferred high sopranos, but he had to appreciate the quality. Gaelic wasn't his strongest language, so he could only understand half of the lullaby she sang.

The horrible emptiness had retreated from the little girl's eyes as she listened to her mother, replaced by a mesmerized admiration.

Funny, he never knew Eithlinn played anything. Ewain had mentioned once that his wife's family had used to be quite well known for their skills on the dulcimer, but he hadn't known the family tradition had carried on.

It was the first time he'd heard music since leaving the Opera House.

Eithlinn had been so careful not to dredge up the pain, even being careful not to even hum in his presence.

Erik appreciated the thought, but a life without music was no life, as far as he was concerned.

As much as it killed him to think about her, about what they'd shared, the silence was every bit as painful.

He saw the little harpsichord in the corner of Erika's room; the one he'd made her once.

Listening to his longtime friend, seeing the little child and her tiny possessions, he felt a smile come onto his face for the first time in so long.

The only thing that could make this more perfect is if he was looking at his own wife and child.

That thought depressed him again.

Two things he'd never have… a family, the love of a woman…

At least he was no longer alone.

Erik wondered idly how long it would take for Eithlinn to remarry; she'd retained her beauty, she was young yet, it was only a matter of time before a man decided he had to have her.

He hoped the man would be as good as Jack was, hoped he'd understand that Eithlinn and her daughter were all this broken old man had.

"Erik?" Eithlinn stood in front of him. When had she gotten up?

He stared a moment before coming up with something to say. "I… couldn't sleep. Then I heard you. You never told me you played." He was unable to suppress a slight tinge of accusation in his voice.

She blushed a little, "Well… It's a tradition. From mother to daughter." She explained, "I was the closest my aunt had to a daughter. It wasn't your type of music; I didn't think you'd be interested. You were always more for the great and grand. Huge orchestras, big casts, bright lights. That sort of thing."

"It gets old." He admitted, "Particularly when you'll never be on the inside." Those words summed up his entire life. He gave her a small, self-mocking smile, "You know, there aren't very many who play that particular instrument anymore. It's a dying art."

She shrugged, "Not in the Irish. There are those of us who will immortalize it. I'll teach my daughter, she'll teach hers…" She trailed off at the wistful look in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Erik." She said softly. He could feel her hands warm on his cold ones and savored the contact for a moment.

"You have nothing to apologize for, Eithi." He replied hoarsely, "I always knew, in some part of me, that it would end up like this. I had hoped… just for a little while, for something quietly beautiful, like you had with Jack." She flinched at the name, but visibly suppressed whatever feelings had been evoked. "I don't know what foolishness came over me to believe what I did."

A hand slipped beneath his mask to touch his cheek, surprising him. "Love is not foolishness, my dear friend. If it were up to me, I'd give you the world. For what it's worth, I swear that as long as I live, you will not be alone. You pulled me out of the darkness, gave me and my daughter a second chance and for that, if not for our twenty years of friendship, I'll always love you."

He felt a kiss on his bare cheek in the darkness before the familiar feel of his mask returned, and he knew she'd left him.

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Morning was uneventful, and Erik could only mull over the previous night's events.

Eithlinn was as calm as could be, except when she looked at her daughter.

Erika sat on the swing out on the oak tree out back; unmoving, dark jade eyes clouded and empty.

He saw Eithlinn staring sadly out the window, helplessly watching her daughter, so silent on a day when other children laughed and played.

After a long silence, she spoke, not turning from the window.

"I wanted my children to keep their innocence, Erik. I never wanted her to lose her light like I did when I was young."

"You never lost it." He replied.

She shook her head, giving him a disbelieving look over her shoulder. "You know that's not true, mon cher. I know you saw the age in my eyes."

"Maturity comes early to some. She'll pull through, as you did. Besides, she has her mother yet." He came up beside her, resting his hand comfortingly on the small of her back.

Eithlinn sighed, resting her cheek on his shoulder. She was accustomed to his lower body-temperature, his odd scent. It was just part of the man she trusted with her life; her childhood crush, and she rarely thought about any of his peculiarities anymore. "I wanted more for her." She whispered.

"And she has it."

"We're not the same people anymore, are we, Erik?" She mused.

"I think we both know the answer to that, my dear."

He slipped away, out the door, to try to reach little Erika.

"Life goes on, little one." He said softly.

She stared blankly at him.

"You've been neglecting your music, child." Erik informed her.

A flash of shame came over her face, and was gone.

He continued, reassured by her response. "You know, your mother is terribly worried. We both are. Do you want her to lose you, too? How long do you think she'd survive?" It was harsh, but it brought a response.

Positive or negative, she _had_ to face some sort of feelings!

"You know, it was bad enough for her to lose your father, your sister, your brothers, but at least she had her little girl to live for. But you're not much more than a ghost, are you? Do you realize it's killing her? Do you know you're hurting her?"

Her little lower lip trembled, "I don't wanna hurt mommy." She whimpered, blinking back tears. "I'm sorry, Uncle Erik, don't stop loving me!" Her little face was completely devastated. Erik sighed with relief, smiled, and picked her up.

"Hush now, little one. It's alright."

The tiny girl continued to cry into his shirt for awhile. When she calmed down, he raised her face so that she looked him in the eye; "You understand why I had to say those things, right child?"

She nodded.

"That's my clever girl." He encouraged. "Now let's go in and practice on your little harpsichord; we can't have you getting rusty. Perhaps with time we can talk your mother into letting us get a proper piano?"

He was rewarded with a shy smile. 'So much like her mother sometimes.' He thought.

------------------------ March, 1883

"It's just one cat, Eithi. It won't be much trouble."

"Oh, you're as bad as she is, Erik!" Eithlinn exclaimed exasperatedly. "Fine, you can keep the cat, but you two are taking care of it."

Identical smirks gleamed back at her from two faces that couldn't have been more different.

Eithlinn sighed, "Good lord she's a mini you!"

"With your looks, thankfully." Erik replied, looking down at Erika cradling the little grey kitten in her arms. He ruffled the seven-year-old's hair and she swiped playfully at his hand.

He jumped back, feigning horror.

Eithlinn gave a long-suffering sigh, "Erik, dear, how old are you?"

"Getting senile, Eithi? I thought you were younger than I."

"You are incorrigible."

The two years in that house of love and family had changed him. Erik still had his bad days, haunted by gruesome memories. He still had nightmares that woke him in a cold sweat with tears running down his face.

But he was no longer alone.

And he thought the open air and sunshine was good for him.

He enjoyed teaching Erika in music and her studies, enjoyed working in the garden with Eithlinn, nurturing instead of killing.

There were a few dark spots, though, in the near-idyllic new life.

The small village they lived near was far away enough from Paris to escape rumors and suspicion, and they had crafted a good alibi for the mask (hunting accident,). But going to the market, he saw young men flirt with her, drawn in by her beauty and quiet good-nature, transfixed by her Irish accent, intrigued by her mystery.

Good-looking men said charming things and Erik would see her blush prettily, lower long-lashed eyelids with a shyness that she'd never quite grown out of. The men would be encouraged, and Eithlinn would come home glowing with honest pleasure at their words, though she tried to be modest, as always.

Seeing her with those men disquieted him in a way he couldn't quite understand.

It almost reminded him of seeing Christine with Raoul, but that was ridiculous—she was just little Eithi, a girl he'd known since her childhood.

Yes, her crush on him, which had endured during teenaged years, had been flattering, but she was just a child, and she'd forgotten quickly enough when she met Jack.

Not that he blamed her.

The man had been decent and charming.

Handsome, too, in a bookish sort of way.

Erik had respected him, had been proud to call him a friend.

There could have been no better man for her.

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It still struck Eithlinn how seamlessly three broken lives had merged to one. The serenity of life with Erik made her wonder what she'd have done without him.

The sound of a piano playing drifted out to the kitchen.

"Wonder which of them it is this time." She mused.

Her question was soon answered as a cool arm wound around her waist.

"Hello, Erik." She murmured. "You know you really must stop sneaking up on me like this."

"Someday I may listen, my dear." He replied. He was silent for a moment, listening. "She's excellent for her age." He remarked.

"You taught her well."

Erik smirked.

The playing stopped for a moment.

"The tone's off a bit." Came Erika's voice, "I think the piano needs to be tuned."

"After dinner, child." Erik called back.

"Thanks Daddy."

Erik felt a surge of joy, but Eithlinn had paled.

He kissed her cheek, and started to walk away. "We'll talk about this later, dear." He said softly.

She nodded dumbly, startled by the change.

A/N—If anyone's confused and wondering what exactly is between Eithlinn and Erik, don't worry: They don't know either!


End file.
